


Through My Veins

by cyberiandemons



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Temporary Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25581163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberiandemons/pseuds/cyberiandemons
Summary: Jonny sat next to her. "Has anything else been going on?”“Um… hang on, let me run a diagnostic check.” Nastya began staring blankly at the ceiling. After a few moments, she began reciting in a nearly-robotic voice, “Report: Some basic functions impacted. Memory operating at 67% regular performance. Anxiety increased by 64%. Depression increased by 54%. Tremors in hands with 32% daily frequency. Diagnosis: undetermined.” She blinked, eyes focusing back on Jonny. “Shit.”—Prolonged exposure to mercury can cause severe illness. What happens when you have mercury running through your veins?
Relationships: Jonny d'Ville & Nastya Rasputina
Comments: 10
Kudos: 156





	Through My Veins

**Author's Note:**

> This was basically prompted by me turning to my fiance one day and saying "hey, wouldn't it be fucked up if Nastya periodically got mercury poisoning?", followed by saying "Oh shit, I could totally make a fic out of that".
> 
> Jonny and Nastya's relationship can be read as either romantic or platonic/familial here! Either way, they're definitely close (even if they won't admit it).

In retrospect, it started with the anxiety. None of them noticed right away, as Nastya had always dealt with some anxiety (well, at least since her death). But it grew more and more—Nastya went from being occasionally fearful to  _ always  _ fearful, always terrified that something was going to go wrong at any moment, that somebody was going to hurt one of them. She started sleeping in Jonny’s room a few nights a week, then several nights a week, then every night. 

Jonny was somewhat annoyed at first. He needed his personal space, after all. So he was relieved when one night, Nastya—apparently sensing his annoyance—announced that she was going to spend the night in her own room. 

A few hours later, on his way to the kitchen for some water, Jonny passed Nastya’s room and heard her crying quietly—the way that she did when she was trying not let anybody hear her. He winced and knocked on the door, then let himself in before she could answer. When Nastya tried to hide her tears and insist she was okay, he just laid down with her and let her curl up against his chest until she fell asleep.

Still, they all initially chalked that up to an unusual but not unheard of flare-up of the anxiety she had always dealt with. And when her depression soared, too, well—her depression and anxiety had always come hand in hand, so it made sense that a flare-up of one would lead to the other. Jonny was beginning to get a little worried, but he told himself that everything was fine, that his Nastya would be back to normal in no time. She would be fine. 

A few days into their stay on the next planet they landed on, Jonny was sitting in a bar. He had been there for an hour, waiting for Nastya to arrive. Finally, annoyance was starting to give way to worry. He stood and walked out of the bar, ignoring the shouts of the barkeeper who was insisting he come back and pay his tab. 

After looking all over the small town for half an hour, he cursed and made his way back to the ship. She had to be  _ somewhere.  _ And it’s not like she could die, anyway. She was okay. She had to be. 

When Jonny found her curled up in her bed, his relief quickly turned to anger. “What the hell, Nastya?”

Nastya jumped, dropping her book in her lap. “Jonny? What’s wrong?”

“You were supposed to meet me at the bar at six!”

Nastya blinked, eyes widening. “Was I?” Her brow furrowed. “I… I don’t remember talking about that. I’m sorry.”

Jonny was fully prepared to continue being angry at her, but something in her face stopped him. He let out a long, heavy sigh and sat on the bed next to her. As he looked over at her, his eye was caught by movement in her lap. He looked down and furrowed his brow as he saw her hands shaking. “Nastya, hey, it’s okay,” he said, voice turning gentle as he reached out and took her hands. “I’m not that mad.”

“What?” She looked down at her hands. “Oh, no, that’s just—my hands have been trembling lately, that’s all.”

“Trembling?” He frowned. “For how long?”

Nastya opened her mouth, then closed it. She thought for a moment before saying, very quietly, “I’m not sure. I can’t remember.”

Well, shit. Things weren’t looking very good, were they? But she was looking at him with worry on her face as her entire body began to tremble, so he put on a smile that he hoped was soothing. “Okay. That’s okay. Has anything else been going on?”

“Um… hang on, let me run a diagnostic check.”

A smile tugged at the edge of Jonny’s mouth. “Okay.”

Nastya began staring blankly at the ceiling. After a few moments, she began reciting in a nearly-robotic voice, “Report: Some basic functions impacted. Memory operating at 67% regular performance. Anxiety increased by 64%. Depression increased by 54%. Tremors in hands with 32% daily frequency. Diagnosis: undetermined.” She blinked, eyes focusing back on Jonny. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Jonny took her hand, running his thumb in circles over her skin. He inhaled deeply, exhaled just as slow. They were both thinking the same thing, and neither of them wanted to say it. 

Finally, Nastya broke the silence. “I don’t want to talk to Carmilla about this.”

Anxiety was gnawing at Jonny’s chest, but he sighed and nodded. “Okay.”

Things continued to get worse from there. Two weeks later, Jonny tried to have a conversation with Nastya, and she kept asking him to repeat every few sentences. The seventh or eighth time it happened, he sighed and asked, “Nastya, is something wrong with your hearing?”

Nastya’s eyes widened. “No! I’m fine.” Jonny stared at her for a long moment. Finally, she sighed and looked down. “Yes,” she muttered. “I started having trouble hearing about… I don’t remember how long ago. Sometime within the past two weeks, I think. Since the last diagnostic check. It’s been getting worse.”

A beat passed. “Nastya—”

“I don’t want to talk to Carmilla about it,” she snapped, “So don’t ask.”

Jonny let out a long, annoyed sigh. “Fine. Whatever. Don’t get help. See if I care. Not like I care what happens to you, anyway.”

“Well, good, because I don’t want you to! I don’t care what happens to you, either!”

“Great! Run yourself into the ground, see if I give a shit!”

She crossed her arms. “Fine!”

“Fine!”

Nastya turned and marched off towards her room. When she was gone, Jonny sighed and collapsed backwards onto the couch, placing his head in his hands. She would be okay. She had to be.

Another two weeks passed. As Jonny sat in the kitchen eating dinner, he realized that he hadn’t seen Nastya in a few days. That wasn’t entirely unusual—she had always been a bit reclusive, and she had one hell of a tendency to lose herself in her projects and not realize that she had been working for days on end. Still, if that was the case, he had better find her and force her to get some rest. She was several inches taller than him, but he had discovered early on that he was fully capable of picking her up, and he abused that ability quite frequently.

Jonny went to her bedroom and knocked on the door. “Nas, are you in there?”

A moment passed. “Yeah.” Jonny frowned. Her voice sounded… different. Weaker. 

“Are you decent?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m coming in.” 

Jonny walked into a pitch-dark room. He fumbled around for the light switch for a moment before managing to get it on, flooding the room with light. Nastya winced and shielded her eyes. Jonny walked over, kneeling next to her bed. “Nastya, have you just been in bed the past few days?” Nastya looked away from him. “... Nastya?”

Nastya nodded. “I’ve been having a lot of trouble walking recently,” she said quietly. “It started a while ago, but it’s been getting worse. A few days ago, I woke up and my legs were hurting so bad every time I took a step that I couldn’t walk more than a few steps at a time. So I just… got back in bed. I’ve left a few times, to go to the bathroom or get water; but every time I do, it takes so much out of me that I can’t move again for hours.”

“Oh, Nastya.” Jonny sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked down at her, looking her over. She seemed paler than usual, which he honestly hadn’t thought was possible. Her face was thin and gaunt, and her eyes seemed somewhat dulled. Trying and spectacularly failing to shove down his worry, Jonny reached out and took her hand. “Do you want to run another diagnostic?”

“Yeah.” Nastya took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling. A moment later, she began to speak in that same nearly-automated voice. “Report: Several basic functions impacted. Memory operating at 52% regular performance. Legs operating at 24% regular performance. Hearing operating at 63% regular performance. Anxiety increased by 76%. Depression increased by 64%. Tremors in hands with 54% daily frequency. Diagnosis: undetermined.”

“Goddammit.” Jonny leaned back, staring at the ceiling. He let several long moments pass in silence before sighing and looking back at Nastya. “We need to talk to Carmilla.”

Nastya winced, and Jonny prepared to argue with her. But then she just sighed, nodded, and said “Okay”. And honestly, hearing her agree to that with no further argument nearly doubled Jonny’s worry. 

Jonny nodded, gripping Nastya’s hand for another moment before letting go. “I’m going to go get her.”

For just a moment, he thought she might change her mind and protest. But any protest that had been in her seemed to die down almost immediately, her posture deflating. “Okay,” she whispered. 

Jonny left the room, closing the door behind him. When he was out of the room, he paused for a moment, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. The Aurora hummed in a way that seemed almost comforting. He took a few long moments to stand there, trying to steady his breathing. Nastya would be okay. Everything would be fine. 

Ten minutes later, Nastya was laid out on an exam table in the lab as Carmilla looked over her. Jonny hovered as nearby as Carmilla would let him, wanting to be near Nastya but not wanting to provoke Carmilla’s ire by being too in her way. After about twenty minutes, Carmilla stood up and sighed, running a hand through her hair as she looked down at Nastya. “Well, Anastasia. I believe you have mercury poisoning.”

Jonny let out a short laugh. “She has—I’m sorry, ‘mercury poisoning’? Mercury can  _ poison  _ people? And you  _ put it in her blood _ ?”

Carmilla shot him a withering glare. “Neither of you are supposed to be able to get sick. I thought it would be fine.”

Nastya let out a cough. “Why didn’t my sensors diagnose that?”

Carmilla sighed again. “Well, mercury poisoning most commonly occurs from inhaling mercury fumes or eating certain kinds of seafood. Neither of those are common on your planet, so it’s not surprising that your sensors wouldn’t be programmed to detect it.” She smiled down at Nastya—that smile that would almost seem comforting if not for the hint of fangs. “We’ll have you taken care of in no time. I just need to recalibrate a few things in your system…”

Hours passed. Jonny alternated between trying to distract himself and pacing around outside the lab door, trying to stop his thoughts from spiraling. Neither of them could die. It was impossible for them to die. But this was technically a problem relating to her mechanism, wasn’t it? So what if something went too wrong with this? What if…?

He shook his head, pushing that thought aside. Nastya would be fine. She had to be.

When they had been in the lab for eight solid hours, his impatience (and, though he wouldn’t admit it, worry) grew overwhelming and he went to knock on the lab door. 

As he raised his hand, the door swung open. Carmilla stood there, looking surprised. “Hello, Jonny. Can I help you?”

“Is Nastya okay yet?”

Carmilla sighed. “She’s proving… resistant to treatments. I’m going to leave it for the night and let us both get some rest, then work more tomorrow. Would you carry her to her bedroom?” Jonny nodded. “Thank you. Goodnight.” Jonny stepped back, allowing her to move past him, walking towards her bedroom. 

Jonny took a moment to breathe in deeply before forcing a smile on his face and stepping into the lab. “Hey, princess.”

“Don’t call me ‘princess’,” Nastya muttered, voice weak.

“Whatever you say, princess.” Jonny walked over, standing next to the lab table and reaching out towards Nastya. She reached out and took his hand, turning her face towards him as she did. He tried not to wince as he saw how absolutely terrible she looked—she looked worse than she had the day Carmilla had carried her corpse into the ship after her first death. “How do you feel?”

“Horrible. Do I look bad?”

“Like shit. C’mon.” Jonny bent down, scooping her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he tried not to grow more worried at how weak her grip was. 

When they arrived to her bedroom, Aurora slid the door open for them. Jonny carried her inside and set her on the bed before setting his gun on the bedside table and climbing in next to her, pulling her into his arms. 

“Jonny?”

“Mm?”

“This  _ sucks _ .”

“I know.” Jonny sighed. “I know.”

“Honestly, I just want to die already so I can wake up feeling better.” A beat passed. Jonny sat up, looking down at Nastya. Her brow furrowed. “Jonny?”

“Do you want me to shoot you?”

Nastya blinked, pushing herself up on her elbows. “What?”

“Do you want me to kill you, Nas?” He laughed. “Fuck, I’ve done it for stupider reasons before. Do you want me to just, y’know…” He mimed shooting her.

Nastya looked away, staring at the bed. After a few moments, she looked back up and nodded. “Yeah. Please. Just don’t do it in the bed.”

“Right.” 

“And don’t do it through the heart.”

“I know, I know. It’s how you were killed, I remember.” He scooped her up, setting her down on the cold, metal ground. Her entire body was trembling, either from her tremors or just from how cold the ground was (or maybe both). Jonny took in a deep breath and grabbed his gun. He took her hand. “Ready?” She nodded, closing her eyes. 

A loud bang sounded through the room. Nastya slumped over. Jonny took in a few long, deep breaths before setting his gun back on the bedside table. Carmilla would be pissed in the morning, but that was an issue for Future Jonny to deal with. 

When Nastya’s head had healed to the point that she wasn’t bleeding or leaking bits of brain anymore, Jonny stood—nearly slipping in blood as he did—and went to the bathroom just down the hall. He returned a moment later with a wet washcloth. This part was annoying, but she’d be pissed if he set her back in bed with blood on her, so he went to work wiping the back of her head clean. When it seemed good enough, he scooped her up and moved her back to her bed, laying down next to her again. After a few minutes, he began drifting off. 

Several hours later, he was woken by a soft voice in his ear. “Jonny?”

Jonny stirred, looking over at Nastya. “Hey. How do you feel?”

“Better.” She smiled at him. “Much better. Thank you.”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Do you think the doc is gonna be able to actually fix the issue?”

Nastya sighed. “Honestly? I’m not sure. This is a bit out of my area of expertise—I’m better with the machine part of biomechanics than the biological part, and I think this falls more under that. Maybe she will be able to fix it. I hope so.”

“Well, if she can’t fix it, I’ll just kill you every time you need me to.”

Nastya laughed. “Thanks, Jonny. You’re sweet.”

Jonny gasped. “I am not! You take that back right now.”

“Fine, you’re a horrible person and I hate you.”

“That’s more like it. I have a reputation, you know.”

“Right.” Nastya scoffed, but he could hear the notes of affection in her voice as she spoke. “Wouldn’t want to damage your reputation as a monster.” 

“Absolutely not. Can’t have people think I’m going soft.”

The next several weeks of attempted treatment proved fruitless. Finally, at the end of a day filled with increasingly painful and convoluted treatments, Carmilla sighed heavily and stepped back, heavy annoyance written all over her face as she looked at Nastya on the table in front of her. Jonny looked over at her. He sighed. “You can’t fix it, can you?”

“I didn’t say that,” she snapped. “I’m just… having trouble working on it when she isn’t currently poisoned. I’d be making faster progress if you hadn’t killed her.”

“Right, sure.”

Nastya sat up. “I mean, if it comes down to it, I’m fine with Jonny just having to kill me every once in a while. It took years for this to become an issue the first time, so hopefully that pattern will keep up. I don’t mind Jonny killing me once every few years.” 

Carmilla crossed her arms. “I’m sure we can come up with a solution more elegant than that.”

* * *

About 140 years later, Jonny and Gunpowder Tim were sitting in the living room of the Aurora. Tim had been with the Mechanisms for several months now, and he was quite confident that he was adjusting nicely. While getting used to the way the other Mechanisms operated had taken some time, he was slowly but surely getting used to the strange ways they acted and interacted with each other.

Nastya stumbled into the living room, pale and trembling. Tim and Jonny immediately stood, walking over to her. Tim put an arm around her, trying to steady her. “Nastya, are you okay?”

“I’m sick,” she said, voice weak. 

Tim frowned. “We can get sick?”

“She can,” Jonny said, eyes locked on Nastya. “Do you wanna ride this out a little longer, or are you ready to be done with it?”

“I’m very, very ready to be done with it.”

“Alright.” Jonny reached to his belt, pulling out his gun. Before Tim could say anything, Jonny pressed a quick kiss to Nastya’s forehead before pulling back and shooting her. 

Tim caught her as she slumped against him. He looked over at Jonny with wide eyes. “What the fuck was that?!”

Jonny took Nastya’s body from him as nonchalantly as if he was picking up a bag of groceries. “Long story. One of us will tell you sometime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on Tumblr at cyberian-demons.


End file.
